#.at this point i think i just don't want to remember ....

[magicbeardpowers]

The analogy I've landed on whenever I think "how can anyone be undecided?" is that a lot of people know about politics the way I personally know about football. I watch one game a year, the Super Bowl, mostly because it's also a family gathering for us. I find out who the teams are the week of. I pick one I want to win pretty arbitrarily, and often I'll start rooting for the team that's a little behind in he 4th quarter. I learn the names of specific players during the pregame interviews. I only know one guy's name because he's dating Taylor Swift, and I don't know what position he plays except it's not the quarterback because that's the position of the only other player I can still name. Long passes are fun to watch but driving up the middle seems boring and is completely indecipherable, and it doesn't seem to push forward very much so I don't know why they do it. I know very little about the actual rules of the game. "Holding" and "false start" are easy enough to get, but is there an offsides rule? Just typing this, I can't say with certainty how many points a touchdown is, just that the field goal after gets more points (4 points and 3 points? It seems like sometimes it's 7 points total but I swear I've seen multiples of six). How many yards is it actually to get a first down?

Meanwhile, I was at a trivia night last year where a whole category was to name the college football team exclusively from a picture of their helmets. Because giving more information would be too easy I guess. Most other tables got like 8 out of 10, many got more.

What I mean by this long football analogy is that we (the Democrats) need to get people interested in our candidates in a similar way the Super Bowl gets non football fans involved. Not literally funny commercials and a half time show, but it couldn't hurt. They also build narratives around their players too. "Can this older quarterback win his probably last Superbowl and get a record breaking number of wins under his belt, or will the younger quarterback come out on top and pick up his first ring?"

Time and again people approve of left or Democrat policies when they're not attached to Democrats. I've seen it mentioned in several places that my home state of Missouri both voted for Trump and voted to allow abortion and raise the minimum wage. If I remember right in 2020 Florida also voted for Trump while raising the minimum wage and legalizing marijuana.

I need to clarify that I am not trying to make a claim to moral superiority by saying "I know important things like politics instead of stupid football". I know about politics because I'm a nerd. These things are interesting to me in the same way I'm interested in the fiction I read and in the way football is to a lot of people. It's a matter of temperament, not character.

the lesson I'm taking away from this election is not that the Democrats need to become more left wing or more right wing but moreso that they need to find a way to cater their rhetoric towards people who genuinly have no idea what is going on. the target audience for every speech and political appearance should be someone who doesn't know what the three branches of government are because they were drawing a Cool S during high school civics

[lu-is-not-ok]

A Narcissistic reading of Hong Lu

Yup, I'm actually doing this.

To lay down some facts first: I have NPD, alongside a bunch of other things that coalesce into a nuclear concoction strong enough to kill every dark empath in a five mile radius. If I find you ableisting it up, I give myself the permission to smite you. This is a threat and a warning.

Now, let's talk about Hong Lu. Because as it turns out, he might just be the most difficult literacy check in Limbus Company according to what I've seen.

I could just say "I'm a narcissist and Hong Lu is just like me fr fr so he's a narcissist too" and end the post, but honestly, where's the fun in that? There are, legitimately, things I want to yap about, so I'm going to yap about them, and no chucklefucks can stop me.

So, to start this off, let's make one thing clear.

Hong Lu is not only a good actor, but also a skilled liar. The way he navigates conversations and the methods he uses are just as important to analyze as the actual words he says, if not more so. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that trying to understand him based Only on what he says and not how he uses the things he says would result in an understanding that's not only incomplete, but potentially outright wrong.

Now, this isn't really tied to why I think Hong Lu could be very reasonably read as having NPD, at least not directly. Narcissists aren't inherently evil liar manipulators, and if that's what you take away from this post, that's more of a you problem (and you can go ahead and block me considering I'm one of the evil liar manipulator narcissists according to you).

However, there is a reason why I have to bring it up. And it's because almost all of Hong Lu's narcissistic traits become a lot more obvious once you look at the exact ways he takes control of conversations.

With that out of the way, what exactly are we even looking for?

NPD, in my experience, primarily affects one's sense of self-worth and self-esteem. I personally found that the analogy of a pendulum makes the most sense to me - a narcissist's sense of self-worth can swing between massive highs and massive lows, almost never staying in a middle "balanced" position, with even the tiniest things being able to throw it to one side or another.

The ways this can present outwardly are. Quite frankly, way too fucking many to count. But there are some common threads we can keep in mind:

High sensitivity to criticism

Need for an external source of validation

Tendency to seek out ways to make oneself feel more special, important, or powerful

So, does Hong Lu fit those criteria?

Well. Yeah. This post wouldn't exist if he didn't.

Let's talk about the first point, high sensitivity to criticism. And, immediately, I would like everyone to remember Hell's Chicken, specifically the scene where Meursault begins to verbally roast his team's dish, and in the process laying down a verbal smackdown on everyone involved. That scene ended like this.

Curious, isn't it? The moment Meursault was about to start criticising Hong Lu, he just jumps in and distracts Meursault with a change of topic - something even Dante's narration points out.

Mind you, this isn't an isolated event. This is just the most obvious example of Hong Lu exhibiting this kind of behavior.

Don't believe me? Just look at these.

These are all examples of Hong Lu either backpedaling, changing the subject, or otherwise trying to avoid the acknowledgement of something that criticizes his status, thought process, or (in the last example) which would reveal an emotional vulnerability.

This is a fairly consistent pattern for him, and that's not even getting into the fact that the line he says when hovering over him before a skill check he has a Very Low chance at succeeding in has him suddenly try to excuse himself and leave.

Hong Lu is absolutely highly sensitive to criticism, it's just that his primary emotional reactions aren't ones we're privy to. Instead, what we get to see is how he acts to try and minimize the impact of those criticisms, if not outright find ways to never let them leave someone's mouth in the first place.

Next up - need for external validation.

This one doesn't have as many examples as the previous point, as Hong Lu is a generally closed off person who keeps a certain level of distance from most other Sinners. However, that doesn't mean I don't have any.

One such example comes from Canto 4, where soon after acting out his part in the play, Hong Lu seeks validation from Yi Sang.

Then there's this moment in Canto 6, where Hong Lu, once again, seeks validation for something he's done.

And then there's also these lines from Hong Lu's various Identities.

Aaaand then there's these base Identity voice lines, which, if you ask me, feel a bit like fishing for compliments.

This point is a lot harder to say is a definitive one, mainly due to Hong Lu's more closed off projected personality. That being said, the fact that one can find examples of it despite that is pretty notable.

And for the final one - trying to make oneself feel more special, important, or powerful.

This is one that's a bit harder to provide exact examples for, as again, Hong Lu isn't someone who talks about how he feels often, and when he does it's not always exactly trustworthy. He's not like Rodya, who while still putting on a facade, is pretty open and easy to read about how she actually feels.

But, there's still some non-mutually exclusive interpretations I want to posit here. Two, in fact.

One - I believe that for Hong Lu, the thing he sees as power is control.

See, avoiding criticism isn't the only time Hong Lu steers conversations. In fact, it's something he does All The Time. He's often the one asking questions to get the group moving, trying to gather information that might be relevant to him, and generally taking over the direction a conversation is going in. Chances are, if Hong Lu speaks up, it's likely to alter the conversation he joins in noticeable ways.

This, I think, is one of the ways Hong Lu makes himself feel more powerful. After all, it's not that hard to guess from what little bits of his background we have that Hong Lu lacked agency for most of his life. So, wouldn't it make sense for him that having that agency, that being able to be socially in control, would be the exact kind of thing that would boost his self-esteem?

In fact, the only times we see him rendered completely speechless, seemingly stripped of that confidence in conversations he usually exhibits, are in Canto 7 - specifically in scenes where he's Not In Control of what the others are talking about. Those scenes being when the other Sinners start shit-talking Xichun in front of him, and when Xichun actively tries to bother Hong Lu by alluding to the way he's been treated back at home.

Extremely confident until something external happens that utterly strips him of that confidence... sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Then, there's the second interpretation.

See, with NPD, there are two ways a narcissist can try to make themself feel more deserving of attention. One is the one most probably think of when they think about narcissists - setting out to fulfill extremely high goals to feel amazing when one reached them and then feeling utterly crushed in the case one doesn't. This would be someone like Rodya.

However, there is also another way, one which I personally have much more experience with - to undersell. To set extremely low expectations, so that it's as hard as possible to fail reaching them, and to feel way better upon surpassing them than one would with higher, more "regular" expectations.

This, to me, is exactly the kind of narcissist Hong Lu is. Think about it. He's constantly putting out this image of an extremely sheltered person that barely understands the outside world, with notable moments where it's made clear he's Just Making Shit Up at points. Wouldn't making one seem unable to do anything, only to then proceed to do things you've led people to not expect of you, make it feel like you're much more exceptional than you really are?

The underselling goes the other way too. When the other Sinners point out something odd about Hong Lu in a more positive way, he's often quick to point out how it's Nothing compared to what his Family expected of him. Wouldn't that make one feel exceptional, to make it seem like whatever effort you're putting in to do well is but a fraction of what else you can do? That you don't even have to try to be able to be special?

...So, there. That's all the analysis and interpretation I find important to do to get my point across.

Just to make it clear, I don't think that the only thing wrong with Hong Lu is the narcissism. There's definitely a lot more shit going on in that head of his. But, I'll be honest, the NPD reading felt so obvious to me that it genuinely took me by surprise that other people don't see it.

Though... maybe I shouldn't be shocked. Some fuckers out there still think Faust is a narcissist when she's literally just autistic.

[blackenedsnow]

I was the one who made reader have a you her sibling they take care of, just saying, it was so amazing. I love it:D. I have another request. This one was a bit weird and rushed cause like I'm a sleepover with two of my cousins so

Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, Art the Clown, Stu Matcher, Thomas Hewitt, Jason, Michael, Billy Lenz, Pinhead, Tiffany (if you write for her) Charles/Chucky, Bo, Vincent, Lester, Brahms. If you want to add more or get rid of some it's okay. But you can either have it platonic of them being a younger sibling or child (adopted or not) going to a sleepover. Maybe sneaking out to it. They go to find out where they are and find them in a house and they are being loud, laughing, and just being kids

If you don't do platonic (cause I can't remember if you do or don't) then do it romantically and just like the same thing. You can change things if you that helps and sorry about this. But, the request I first made and you did, it was a great and made me smile cause I didn't expect it so thanks for that

slashers reactions to their younger sibling reader sneaking out to a sleepover ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Billy Loomis & Sibling! Reader, Bubba Sawyer & Sibling! Reader, Art the Clown & Sibling! Reader, Stu Macher & Sibling! Reader, Thomas Hewitt & Sibling! Reader, Jason Voorhees & Sibling! Reader, Michael Myers & Sibling! Reader, Billy Lenz & Sibling! Reader, Pinhead & Sibling! Reader, Tiffany Valentine & Sibling! Reader, Charles Lee Ray/Chucky & Sibling! Reader, Bo Sinclair & Sibling! Reader, Vincent Sinclair & Sibling! Reader, Lester Sinclair & Sibling! Reader, Brahms Heelshire & Sibling! Reader

NOTE: Hope you enjoyed this! I could imagine so many of them struggling to hold back but ultimately wanting to let you just be a kid and have fun. Thank you so much for this request; it was a blast to write!

BILLY LOOMIS

You’ve managed to sneak out quietly, thinking Billy won’t notice because he’s engrossed in a movie marathon.

But within half an hour, he realizes you’re gone and his “big sibling” instincts kick in.

He shows up at the house with that intense, unblinking stare that could stop anyone mid-laugh.

Who do you think you are, sneaking out like this?

He’s relieved (and slightly embarrassed) to see you just goofing off with friends.

Pretends to be unimpressed when you’re caught off guard.

He’ll let you stay—for now—

With the most deadpan expression, muttering,

“You could’ve just told me.”

But he’s not about to let you get away with it.

Once you’re back home, he’s the silent-but-deadly type. Just know you’re grounded.

BUBBA SAWYER

Bubba panics the minute he realizes you’re gone, running through the house and making distressed sounds as he searches for you.

He's going to family members and pointing to where your things should be.

The whole family tries to calm him down, but he’s inconsolable until he finds a clue leading him to the sleepover house.

When he tracks you down, he’s so relieved he doesn’t know what to do.

Seeing you safe and having fun brings tears to his eyes.

He’ll probably sit outside the house, just quietly waiting for you to finish.

If you notice him, he might wave shyly or even try to make himself “invisible.”

ART THE CLOWN

Oh, Art knows you’ve snuck out, and he’s amused.

He’s both delighted to have a reason to check in and irritated that you thought you could get away with this.

Appears at the sleepover out of nowhere, scaring the life out of anyone who notices him lurking outside.

Watches silently, only making himself known to you with that twisted grin of his, waving as if to say, “Caught you!”

Doesn't stop you from having fun but does make it clear that he knows—and will remember.

Expect creepy antics as payback when you get home.

STU MACHER

Stu probably wasn’t paying enough attention to notice you sneaking out right away, but once he does..

He's MAD.

Once he finds the house, he’s too tempted not to sneak around and scare the shit out of all of you.

Might throw a pebble at the window to get your attention and then give you a dramatic pout, mouthing,

“How could you leave me out?”

When you get home, he’ll give you a long (and playful) guilt trip about how you left him to "suffer".

THOMAS HEWITT

Notices you’re missing right away.

Thomas doesn’t like you out of his sight, so he feels uneasy, imagining the worst.

He follows you quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

When he spots you through the window, safe and laughing, he stops, taking a deep breath of relief.

Watches you with a slight smile, just relieved to see you having fun.

He’s happy that you’re being a normal kid and knows better than to interrupt that.

Will probably leave you alone and probably won't bring it up, ever.

He would definitely prefer if you let him know though.

JASON VOORHEES

Jason’s heart drops when he notices you’re not in your usual spot, and he’s anxious as he starts tracking you down.

He’s relieved to see you laughing and safe with friends.

Stays outside or hidden, keeping a protective eye.

He doesn’t want to interrupt but also doesn’t want anything sneaking up on you.

Plus, who knows if these kids don't mean any harm?

Might leave little signs outside (like stacked stones) to let you know he was there, just to make sure you’re safe.

MICHAEL MYERS

He’s annoyed.

Why would you leave his protection?

Michael doesn’t even try to blend in; he’s the shadow at the window.

Once you see his white mask peeking in, you know the jig is up.

He won’t cause a scene, but he just stares until you get the message.

When you sneak out to meet him, he’ll give you a tiny “you-know-better” look, but he’s not mad—he just wants you safe.

Doesn’t reveal himself to anyone else, but he’ll stay there the entire time.

When you get home, expect a long, silent stare, reminding you that you’re not as sneaky as you think.

BILLY LENZ

He notices right away.

Billy has a keen eye for your whereabouts, and he’s instantly on the move, tracking you down.

Peers through the window, watching you play with a pout.

He feels oddly betrayed but finds your happiness too endearing to be angry.

He won’t disrupt the fun, but you might catch a glimpse of him outside, holding his hands up in an “I’m watching you” gesture.

When you get home, he’ll tease you nonstop about “abandoning him.”

PINHEAD

This is completely out of the ordinary, and he is both confused and a bit annoyed that you snuck out without informing him.

Appears in his signature, intimidating way, silently observing from outside.

He finds the concept of a “sleepover” curious.

He’s more contemplative about it, watching as if studying some strange new human ritual.

He waits until you’re ready to return and then accompanies you back without a word.

You can expect a very stern lecture when you get home about the importance of communication…

TIFFANY VALENTINE

She realizes quickly that you’re gone and storms out to find you, though her anger’s more worried than anything.

When she spots you through the window, laughing and having fun, her irritation fades into a soft smile.

She won’t interrupt, just stands outside and watches for a bit.

She loves seeing you like this, happy and unbothered.

When you get back, she’ll playfully scold you but then pull you into a hug, reminding you to tell her next time.

CHUCKY (CHARLES LEE RAY)

Chucky’s annoyed at first, muttering to himself,

“What does this kid think they’re doing?”

He’s irritated you’d sneak off, especially without his “permission,” and tracks you down, grumbling the entire way.

When he finds you, he feels an odd mix of pride and annoyance.

He likes your independence but also doesn’t like feeling “left out.”

Gives you a wicked grin through the window, mouthing, “We’re talking later.”

He’ll grumble that “next time, you should let him know,” but he’s proud you managed to sneak out without him noticing.

BO SINCLAIR

Bo is mad and lets you know it.

He’s worried you’re in danger, and when he finds you, he’s that overprotective brother with his arms crossed.

He pulls you aside, lecturing you on safety and probably embarrassing you in front of your friends.

But once he knows you’re okay, he lets up a bit and waits outside for you, a little softer.

At home, he pretends he’s still mad but lets you off the hook pretty easily.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

Vincent’s used to you being close by, so when you’re not there, he’s unnerved and worried.

Tracks you down and watches quietly, almost touched to see you carefree with your friends.

Leaves a little note or sketch somewhere you’ll find it later, a reminder of his presence even when you’re far away.

He’s quiet when you get home, but there’s a warmth to his gaze.

You should him next time..

LESTER SINCLAIR

Lester’s both amused and concerned when he finds you missing.

He tracks you down quickly, not one for letting you go unguarded.

When he finds you through the window, he watches with a fond smile, chuckling at your carefree attitude.

Might knock on the door and make up an excuse to check on you if you notice him, but he’ll mostly just let you have your fun.

Gives you a playful nudge and a “don’t think you’re getting away that easy next time” when you get back.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Brahms does not take this well, feeling abandoned and maybe a bit betrayed.

When he tracks you down, he watches from the shadows, arms crossed, grumpy but protective.

Might stare until you feel his gaze and look over at him, just so you know he found you.

When you return, expect a big fuss, with Brahms grumbling about how much he “suffered” in your absence.

[phoenixcatch7]

DO NOT REWRITE A FIC.

In the same impulse as 'I wanna text my ex', rewriting a fic is retreading ground you've already been over and gotten sick of. It will NOT keep your motivation and attention the way you want it to. Rewrites are prime territory for burnout.

I've been in fandom - fanfic specifically - for very nearly a decade now. I have seen DOZENS of rewrites of all sorts of fics, across all sorts of platforms of all different lengths and quality. I can think of maybe two that made it past the point of the original fic. I can't think of any that made it to completion.

I've done the exact same thing. I put a lot of love and energy into both the original and the rewrite. I ran out of motivation fast, because it just didn't feel like I was making progress, despite the huge changes.

It might feel extremely tempting, especially if your skill has improved drastically since the start of the fic, but writing is so much about making something special, something new and interesting, and a rewrite will not scratch that itch. Everyone has had that impulse. The longer or older the fic the more tempting it will be. Trust that it got you to where you are now and keep writing.

HOWEVER.

There are two methods to dealing with it, depending on how many changes you want to make.

Overwrite, not rewrite. If it's just a matter of quality, edit the fic directly. Make a separate copy of the original, but you are now the beta reader of your own fic and you have full reign. Put the new ideas that will occur in a separate doc for method 2. Edit heavily, edit freely. The goal will feel much more manageable because the bits you can't be bothered to do again are already there. Add scenes, delete scenes, patch plot holes. Go paragraph by paragraph - delete each one as you go if you're desperate, but it is sooooo much better than redeveloping a blank document from scratch. It lets you bounce around the fic as well!

AU TIME. Are these two fics you're writing incredibly similar? Sure! That's because your fic now comes with AUs! Change the characters, change the plot, change the very premise! All is fair in aus and war. Diverge that fic canon! It's time for splitting the timeline! It'll make it feel fresh again, and even encourage you to engage with the original in a positive way, rather than nitpicking every issue it has and making you feel like the new version has to be perfect, be the one in your mind. It'll never be that. Every artist, professional or otherwise, agrees. The lure and stress of perfectionism is how a rewrite exhausts you. So just... Don't consider it one! Call it an au, and the world is your oyster once more. Let the new fic take on a life of its own.

And if you've posted it, don't take it down? People LOVE having two cakes, and you can never predict what parts people liked about the first. Go into any comment section under a deletion notice for rewrite purposes and you'll find people asking the author to let the fic stay up. You don't have to so much as look at it again! But there are people who read it who will remember it fondly, no matter how bad quality you think it is XD. I've binged authors who happily write a dozen aus of their own fics. It might feel weird at first but trust me it's great.

Do not text your ex! And do not rewrite a fic! It can work, but don't act surprised when nothing is new. A new haircut will not fix the underlying issue.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[ponett]

On the wiki gg slarpg wiki, there's a family portrait-esq piece of artwork on zinnia's page of her, verena and the boys. it doesn't have a source and i can not find it for the life of me. so i was curious if that was posted publicly or not.

I can't remember if I've ever posted it publicly, but that's really just because it spoils the game's ending. It's been shared in my Patreon Discord, and I think I gave my blessing to post it to the wiki? I've known it's there and I'm cool with it being there, so, y'know, either way it's fine.

I'll put the image in question and an explanation of its origins below the cut.

(Again, spoilers for the ending of SLARPG, like for real big ones.)

So at one point in 2021 I needed a chunk of change, and Anthony gave it to me in exchange for some artwork. One of the things he requested was Verena and the boys, because the boys were his personal pet characters for the game and I hadn't even drawn their battle artwork yet at that point, so he really wanted to see me draw them. He suggested I draw something set after the game's ending, "post-Javis," with the comment that Verena would basically end up as their mom. I added Zinnia because, well, duh. And then I did it in the style of like a shitty Walmart photo studio family portrait. Because I think that's funny.

And so this image was born

In hindsight I wish I'd given Verena and Zinnia rings in this, but I don't think I'd quite decided that they were married at that point. I was still working on the ending.

Fun fact: Killer Ray's in-game portrait is a crop of this drawing! Because his head and hard to draw and I didn't feel like drawing it again for the portrait lmao

[yuanist]

kuroo, you think, has been out here for quite a while now. 

when you left to go meet with your study group—sometime between six-thirty and seven—the snow was just beginning to pile up. it hadn't started sticking to the roads yet, but you could see the vapor slip from the few leaves left on the trees; a symptom of early winter, you suppose. 

now, though, there must be four or five inches out here. the old oak tree that hangs over your building is starting to sag, and the moon seems heavier than it did before, hanging lowly along the glow of street light. 

kuroo is sitting on the steps up to your apartment, looking down at his phone. he has more than a few flakes in his hair, and if it wasn't for the ridge in the snow where he'd pushed it aside to sit, you'd think he'd been out here the whole time. 

"cold?" you ask, shuffling towards him. you can hear the crunch of your feet under you. 

"me? never."

he looks up at you then and, you'll admit, you like seeing him like this. lately, he's been against the whole 'text me before you come over' thing, and you know it's mostly because you don't reply, but, in part, that's so you can see him here. 

his hands are half-tucked under the sleeves of his coat, and there's a stretch of pink from the tops of his cheeks to the tip of his nose. his lips are chapped (you can only assume from being out here so often) and there's a little smile tugging at the sides of his mouth, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth. 

"oh, you want me to leave you out here then? give you a little more time?" you're smug—or, at least you're trying to be, anyway. the more time you spend with kuroo, the worse you are at pretending you don't like him. recently, you've been failing at that more than you'd care to admit. 

"hey, i didn't say that." he sinks his teeth into his lower lip. "plus, what's the point of coming all the way over here if i can't see my favorite girl?" 

you shake your head at him, aiming your chin towards the ground. in a strange way, you feel like you're suffocating.

"you mean the cat?" you ask.

and he chuckles, "sure." 

a beat of silence hangs in the air for a second, before you plod your way up the steps, pulling your keys out of your pocket. you can hear kuroo rise behind you, attempting to brush some of the moisture out of his sleeves. 

"y'know," you say, pushing the key into the door. "if you like coming over when i'm not home so much, i could tell the neighbor to let you in." 

his hood rustles; he's shaking his head. 

"where's the fun in that? kinda ruins my whole 'mysterious stranger' act." 

"also kinda ruins the 'guy stalking the apartment complex' act." you swing the door open and make your way up the stairs. "i'm sure everyone is so enthused by the guy sitting on the stairs every friday." 

a laugh, "oh i'm sure. if they report me for loitering promise you'll come bail me out?" 

"depends on how much i like you that day." you can feel the heat of your apartment as you approach the end of the hall. 

"really," he says. "if they took me in right now?" 

"i would think about it." you pause. "maybe." 

"wow." you can hear the rasp in his voice as he drags out the 'o.' "tough crowd." 

your apartment smells like pine and vanilla—the workings of two little wax melters on opposite sides of the rooms. you turned them off before you left (you double and triple-checked), but the scent lingers, itching at your nose as you cross through the door. 

kuroo follows close behind, scaping his shoes off on the mat before slipping them onto the little shoe rack in the corner. his jacket squeaks as he shrugs it off—a sound so distinctly made from the shifting of wet nylon that you barely have to turn around to identify it. 

every time he follows you up here, you find yourself glancing around your apartment—looking for something that could possibly be out of place. something incriminating: three-day-old dishes that you know you already washed; your vibrator, forgotten on the nightstand, even though you remember putting it back in its designated drawer. 

for some reason, you have a tendency to think that the things around your home that make you distinctly human are also the things that would make you distinctly unappealing. you're aware of how silly the thought is, but there you are, quickly looking over at your nightstand as you stick your coat back in the closet. 

"so," you hum, rubbing a bit of the warmth back into your hands. "to what do i owe the pleasure tonight? you here to eat all of my leftovers again?" 

"depends," he says. "you have leftovers to be eaten?" 

"not this time." you make your way to the couch, and he pouts, following behind you. "but if i did, they'd be all yours." 

"aw, you mean it?" you eye him. "i'm honored." 

as much as you hate to admit it, this has sort of become habit. you come home a little later than expected and you find kuroo sitting on your front stoop. you're not exactly sure how any of it started—or, really, how the two of you became friends in the first place—but you ran in the same circles for a while and, eventually, you ended up here. 

"well," he begins, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. "study group?" 

"boring." you nudge your way beneath his shoulder. "practice?"

"thrilling, obviously. greatest two hours of my life, even. i think you could go as far as to—" you eye him again. "same thing as yesterday." 

you chuckle, swatting a hand into his chest. 

there's silence for a moment, something warm pulling through the air of the room. quiet breaths spill from kuroo's lips, and you resign yourself to listening to each one—in, and out. 

he still smells cold; like the heavy, wet snow you have to shovel off of the porch the morning after a blizzard. for every breath, it lessens, bleeding into the heat of the room, but you let the scent linger at the base of your nose. 

you're not sure how much time you've spent taking in pieces of kuroo, but you know it's more than you ever plan to tell. you know his hands take longer to warm up than the rest of him—he chalks it up to bad circulation most of the time, you know that too; he rarely spends a night at home because he doesn't like sitting in silence; he twitches sometimes, when he's nervous, a little flick of his hands; his favorite color is red but sometimes he's drawn to deep blues because he likes the sky better when it's absent of stars—he says there's something enchanting about the abyss. 

he's too dense to know you're in love with him but too smart to think you're not. sometimes you catch him looking at you after you say something in a tone a little too far beyond friendly and you swear that he knows what you mean. sometimes, you think he's going to break the silence, and, sometimes, you think he never will. 

tonight, he swings his head back, eyes lightly shut, slowly sinking into the back of the couch. you can hear the sputter of your vents and the sound of the wind against the windows—snow still trying to fight its way through the glass.  

you're going to ask him to stay the night tonight—you already know it. you're going to wake up to him on the couch tomorrow, with his hair messed up, and his eyes half-lidded, and that stupid look on his face that makes you want to slip your tongue into his mouth. 

you're going to think about that time you slept together last year—once, after a halloween party—and you're going to think about the way the inside of his mouth tasted; you're going to sink your teeth into your lips so hard that you're going to bleed. 

you're going to consider telling him that you love him, that you always have and you think you always will, and then you're going to ask him if he wants coffee instead—hoping the smell of the pot is enough to make your head feel less fuzzy. 

you're going to wait, and hope he says something, even though you'll know he never does. and then, next friday, when you come home to him sitting on your front steps, you're going to do it all again. 

reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birdie's Halloween

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: The fifteenth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Listen, Mum," Mary says as she weaves through the aisles of the store," I'd love to chat but I'm really quite busy right now."

"Oh yes, I'll let you get back to what you're doing," Mary's mother says on the other end of the phone," But just remember to send me her Christmas list, alright? And maybe that list of-"

"Mum," Mary says again," Seriously, I have to go."

"I know, I know but- Oh! I didn't tell you. Mrs Todds - you remember Mrs Todds, right? Anyway, Mrs Todds from next door said-"

"Mum. Me, go. Have to. Alright?"

"Oh, fine, Mary. You go. I'll call tonight. We can finish this then."

"Great," Mary mutters, looking down at her phone impassively," I'll look forward to it." She sighs, shaking her head and slipping the device back into her pocket with the startlingly discovery that she's lost you.

Again.

It's actually kind of incredible how she can lose an eight year old and her puppy in such a small store.

"Birdie!" She calls out," Birdie!"

There's no answer.

Mary sighs. "Y/n! I mean it, come here!"

Your head pops around one of the aisles and Newton's golden fur moves in speedy circles as he waits for Mary to get closer.

"You can't keep wandering off," Mary tells you, taking your hand," What happens if I lose you?"

Ever practical, you reply," Well, if I get lost then I have to go to the nearest shop worker or mother and tell them I'm lost. I have your number on my ID necklace so I get them to call that."

You beam up at her and Mary laughs despite herself.

"You know, I think Tooney was right when she called you a little smartass."

You keep beaming. "Ella's just jealous she's not as smart as me."

"But at least she knows not to wander off in a store."

"I have Newton with me."

Mary gives you a pointed look, staring down at your very dopey dog who's only now growing into his service dog vest. He's great for your emotional regulation and anticipating meltdowns but for your physical protection, not so much.

"Still," Mary says," Let's just stay close, alright?"

You huff, muttering," Just because you don't speak French," but still keep close as Mary looks through the racks of costumes.

"And you're absolutely certain you want to match?"

"Yes."

"Alright then."

It's nowhere near your first Halloween with Mary but it's your first with Newton, your adorable service pup who enjoys things like sleeping on a heated blanket and accidentally treading on his own ears.

Usually, you choose something to match with Mary but you don't want Newton to feel left out, especially because of everything he does for you.

Newton's your best friend in the whole world, even more than the horses at the barn you go to for your lessons.

So this year, you're foregoing a matching outfit with Mary in favour of one with Newton which is what led to Mary spending hours looking for a shop in Paris that sold human costumes and dog costumes.

"What about this one?"

You wrinkle your nose up at the cheap ghost costume Mary holds up for you.

"That's basic," You complain, "Newton deserves better."

Newton seems to whine in agreement, sitting up on his haunches in the same way he begs for scraps when he's off duty.

"Fine," Mary grumbles," Fine. We'll find something better."

"Newton's a gentlemen," You continue," That's why he deserves a better costume."

Mary smiles fondly as you go look through the racks yourself.

Newton whines a little ten minutes later, wedging his body between you and the costumes when he notices how distressed you're getting.

Mary notices too, guiding you away from the dog section to ones more your size.

"Let's choose yours first," She says gently," Are we going scary or cute?"

"Cute," You mumble, running your hand through Newton's soft fur.

"How about these?"

Mary lets you be for the most part, taking items off the rack to show you the choices.

"That one," You mumble, already halfway to non-verbal as you repeatedly run a hand through Newton's fur," Please."

"Good choice, Birdie," Mary says," Shall we choose one for Newton today or-?"

You nod your head, shuffling back to the dog aisle as Mary throws your Belle dress into the basket.

You rifle through the racks quickly, though one hand remains rooted around Newton's leash.

"This one?" Mary checks as you pull one out for her to take. "You're going to be Belle and Newton's going to be the Beast."

You nod.

"Good choice," She says," Let's pay for these and we'll head home. There's some chocolate milk with your name on it."

[icarusredwings]

COUGH COUGH

Guilty.. for loving someone so different and yet the same. For thinking about that plane ride. Thinking about the late nights when he would pop his head under, talking to him from the top bunk.

“Hey Howlett, You want a bite? I stole it from Mr. Claws over there.” He said, with the biggest, kindest smile, one side bigger than the other. Reaching his hand down, it held what looked like a sweet roll.

“Do you have a death wish?” He had growled back then, his arms behind his head.

The upside down man just laughed, shrugging. “Ha! Don't we all? Oh shit- here he comes - Shh!”

That night, he remembered thinking that Wade might understand him. The only difference between those funny grins now was that this Wade had blue eyes and soft crow feet, a bigger crease in his face from how much he's smiled in this life.. something the gentle chocolate lab of his universe's Wade never got to experience..

"You! What did I say about taking my shit!?" His brother growled, trying to drag the man off of the bunk only for Wade to have such an excited glint in his eyes. Like he thought this was all a game at camp or something..

"Wooh! Watch out! kitty's got claws! And he's PISSED!" He announced, loud enough for Stryker to shout at them to settle down for bed and scold Wade, telling him to knock it off or he'd let Victor maul him.

"You heard him... Let him go, Vic." He muttered. "You don't even like those things."

"That's not the point, and you know it. He knows what he's doing." His brother snarled towards the bunk.

"Leave him, or you'll piss off the colonel.." He says in return, the lights being shut off by now. He hears him growl under his breath, walking away with his claws clentched into his fist.

Closing his eyes, Logan was only met with the little shits tags danging over the edge with such a shit eating grin. "Aye, thanks for defending me, back there."

By now, his own growls left his throat. "I didn't do shit, Wilson, now go the fuck to bed before I kill you myself."

"Awww, you love me too much for that, and you know it." He teased.

Logan snorts. "Tch. Yeah, right.."

Pulling himself back up, he was quick to lay down, finally still and silent.. but never for long.

"Night, Logan.."

He whispered. And right then and there Logan should have known not to walk away. He should have known to stay. He should have said goodnight..

He could have snitched on him that night. Let Victor slice him up. Maybe he didn't because he just didn't want to deal with it, but.. maybe it was fondness.

A fondness that he didn't bother chasing.. one he walked away from. Just like everything else..

COUGH COUGH

Aw damn it, I coughed up the complicated feeling of regret and second chances regarding worst wolvies affections for orgins wade!

Dag nab it! Not again!

[atlasscrumpit]

BUCKY X READER

You were on a mission with the Avengers newest member, Bucky.

You weren't exactly thrilled to be working with the ex hydra agent. Stopping in a shitty motel for the night you groaned and threw your duffle bag on one of the single beds.

Lately you had been feeling...odd.

Things weren't adding up, maybe your paranoia was returning.

You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a spot on the back of your neck.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Bucky asked as you looked up.

"What?"

"You go quiet and rub your neck." He noted as you quickly stopped.

"Nothing, doesn't matter." You replied.

"I'm going to take a shower."

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands.

Bucky eventually finished showering, coming out without a shirt and his hair a mess.

"Seriously, what the hell is going on with you?" He asked as you looked up.

"I don't know... Maybe I'm going crazy. I just have this feeling." You muttered standing up and starting to pace.

"Y/N, you're acting insane." He said as you stopped and looked at him.

"What happened when you first joined the team?" You asked as he looked at you in confusion.

"Well, Steve introduced me to the team. I got a room and...that's about it." He said as you bit the inside of your lip in thought.

"What about when you first joined? When they took you from Shield and to the tower. There's time missing, isn't there?" You said as he thought for a while.

"I guess... It was just a busy time, I probably forgot some things." He said as you began rubbing the back of your neck again.

"I need a knife." You muttered, opening your duffle and grabbing out your blade.

"I need you to make an incision in my neck." You said handing the blade to him.

He quickly took it and put it down.

"Alright, let's put the knife down and sit down. There we go." He said pushing you back to sit on the bed.

"You're acting a little...hostile, Y/N. Talk to me." He said kneeling in front of you as you rubbed at your neck again.

He gently reached up and pulled your hand away.

"Talk to me." He said softly.

"What if they planted a chip in me?" You whispered, Bucky looked at you in confusion.

"Who?" He asked, holding onto your hand.

"The team! We both come from bad backgrounds, what it they chipped us!" You shouted as he looked at you in concern.

"Y/N, you're having a breakdown. The team wouldn't do that to us." He said as you shook your head.

"You need to cut into my skin, okay? Just trust me!" You shouted as you got up and grabbed the knife again, Bucky quickly grabbed you, restraining your arms.

"Enough! Y/N, there isn't a chip in your neck, okay? You had one in your neck from Hydra but it was taken out, remember?" He asked as you stopped fighting and panted softly.

"What's happening to me?" You whispered as Bucky sighed but still held you.

"Steve warned me you get delusions and paranoia... Have you got medication?" He asked, slowly letting you go.

You turned around and looked at him.

"I have some with me... But, what if they just want me to take them to make me forget?" You whispered as Bucky looked at you, feeling sorry for you.

"I know it seems scary at the moment, nothing really makes sense. You just need to take some medication. There's no reason the team would need to implant a chip into you. You're a valuable member of the team, not a prisoner." He replied, trying to reason with you.

You bit your lip and looked around, thinking.

"If we were their prisoners would they send us both alone on a mission together?" He asked as you sighed and rubbed your eyes.

"Where's your medication?" He asked softly.

You pointed to your backpack and Bucky searched through it to find the bottle of pills.

He thoroughly read the bottle before getting one out and a glass of water.

"Here." He said handing it to you and practically stared at you without blinking until you took it.

After taking it you laid on the bed and sighed softly.

"Some hero, huh?" You grumbled as Bucky sat beside you.

"Y/N, we all have issues on the team. I think it's a prerequisite at this point." He joked making you chuckle softly.

You rolled over and started to run your finger over his metal hand.

He glanced down at you in shock, he wasn't used to someone finding comfort in his metal arm.

"I love being a hero... I love being on the team, but it just gets difficult. I feel so alone." You muttered, mindlessly tracing patterns onto his hand.

"I understand, but you don't have to do this alone. We can do this together, you can come to me whenever you're having...delusions, and I come to you when I have a bad dream or something. Good exchange?" He asked as you chuckled softly.

"Sounds like a good deal, Barnes." You muttered looking up at him.

"It's a deal then."

[lazyscience]

People feel like astrology works BECAUSE it's so random and unspecific; taking these basically random word association tables of characteristics and vague actions can actually be helpful when you're stuck on something in your head. What it does is give you a fresh perspective/lens you're probably not using, because odds are you wouldn't have arrived at it from a logical analysis of your situation. However, because humans be humaning and what we think is "logical" is frequently full of unrecognized biases and cognitive distortions, it's full of blind spots and under/overestimations.

Trying to fit your issue of "should I apply for this job" or "should I call this person I'm attracted to" or "what should I do about X friend group drama" into "People with Venus in their ninth house should look for investment opportunities this month" isn't logical, but what it DOES do is inspire you to try and think how your personal issue fits into that prompt, which might give you a different but still useful angle to address it with.

For example, if you decide this advice applies to that person you're not sure you should call and come up with 'are they an investment in my future, or are they me wasting my money on a cool hoodie with thumb holes?' the question isn't actually "should I call them" but "are they a good longterm relationship prospect, and if they are is that also something they want?" Which you probably either already know and are just waffling because they're a good lay and the dating market for permanence has been discouraging so why not have a little treat (you know why, it delays finding what you really want), or you don't, so you should call them to make a date and talk more about where you might see things going in future.

So tl;dr things like astrology, tarot cards and other woo-woo divination techniques CAN encourage creative thinking and problem-solving - up to a point, as long as you remember that ANY horoscope forecast or card pull could do the same thing, and it's a thought exercise not someone actually foretelling your future. It's a more complicated and aesthetic way to flip a coin, basically.

Astrology doesn't seem to work.

[emjayewrites]

turkey day • jules koundé one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules experiences his first American Thanksgiving.

WARNINGS: cursing, family stuff, and abundance of thanksgiving food, fluff, boyfriend!jules

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Maya Richardson (fc @/Ebonee Davis)

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: I will be gone/offline on Thanksgiving so I figured to write something for y’all for Jules. Also thank you for 2,500 followers!!! This is insane 💕

Jules Koundé checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes, his carry-on Rimowa suitcase beside him as he waited in the private terminal of Barcelona-El Prat Airport. The early morning November air was crisp, and his mind wandered between the upcoming match against Las Palmas and the whirlwind journey he was about to embark on. Forty-eight hours in Atlanta – just enough time to experience his first American Thanksgiving with his girlfriend Maya's family before rushing back for the game.

"You know you don't have to come," Maya had said when he first suggested the trip. "My family will understand." But Jules had insisted. After dating for a year and a half, mostly long-distance while she finished her PhD in International Relations at Oxford, he wanted to meet the family she spoke about with such warmth and humor in their late-night FaceTime calls.

The private jet, arranged by the club, would make the tight schedule possible. As he settled into his seat, Jules pulled out his phone to reread Maya's latest text: "Daddy's already planning to show you 'real' football 😂 Just smile and nod, baby. Just smile and nod."

The flight passed in a blur of sleep, movies, and light training exercises in the cabin. When they touched down at Hartsfield-Jackson, Maya was waiting in a private lounge, wrapped in a cream-colored pullover that complemented her dark skin perfectly. Her braids were styled differently than when he'd last seen her three weeks ago in Barcelona, now arranged in an elegant updo.

"Bienvenue à Atlanta," she said with an exaggerated French accent that made him laugh as he pulled her into an embrace then kiss to her temple.

"Your accent is terrible," he murmured into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her Shea Moisture hair products.

"Yeah, well, your English was terrible when we first met, so we're even," she teased, leading him toward the parking garage where her car waited.

The drive to her parents' house in the affluent suburb of Cascade Heights took them through Atlanta's ever-changing landscape. Maya pointed out landmarks from her childhood – her old high school, the church where her grandfather had preached for forty years before retiring, the soul food restaurant where her family gathered after every major event.

"Now remember," she said as they turned onto a tree-lined street of impressive homes, "my Daddy's gonna try to intimidate you because that's just what he does. Mama will try to feed you until you burst. And my brothers..."

"Will try to determine if I'm worthy of their baby sister," Jules finished, having heard this warning before. "And your grandfather will question my profession."

"Exactly. And with all my cousins coming..." She glanced at him apologetically. "It might get a little overwhelming."

Jules reached over to squeeze her hand. "I play in front of 90,000 people at Camp Nou. I think I can handle your family."

Maya's laugh was cut short as they pulled into a circular driveway where several cars were already parked. "We'll see about that."

The door opened before they reached it, and a statuesque woman who could only be Maya's mother emerged, arms outstretched. "This must be Jules!"

Dr. Angela Richardson, a respected cardiothoracic surgeon, enveloped Jules in a warm hug before he could even attempt a formal greeting. "Come in, come in! Everyone's dying to meet you!"

By "everyone," she apparently meant the small crowd gathered in the two-story foyer. Maya's father, Miles Richardson, stepped forward first – a tall man with graying temples and an athletic build that suggested his college football days weren't too far behind him. His handshake was firm but not challenging, his smile genuine if slightly reserved.

"Welcome to our home, young man. Maya tells us you play... soccer?" The slight pause before "soccer" made Jules bite back a smile.

"Yes, sir. For Barcelona and the French national team."

"Hmm," was all Miles said, but Jules caught the slight widening of his eyes at the mention of the national team. From what Maya had told him, her father had made it to the NFL combine before a knee injury ended his career, so he at least understood the significance of representing one's country.

The introductions continued in a whirlwind: Maya's twin brothers Miles Jr. ("MJ") and Michael, both successful attorneys; their wives; a handful of young children who regarded Jules with wide-eyed curiosity; and finally, her grandparents.

Reverend Richardson, Maya's paternal grandfather, was a commanding presence despite his advanced years. "So," he said, peering at Jules over his glasses, "They call it football over there. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we're about to watch some real 'football'. Lions versus Bears. Traditional Thanksgiving game. You might learn something."

Maya's grandmother, Ernestine, swatted his arm. "James, leave that boy alone. He's tired from his flight." She turned to Jules with a warm smile. "You just ignore him, sugar. Now, have you eaten? You look too skinny."

Before Jules could respond, Maya intervened. "Grandma, he's a professional athlete. He has to maintain his weight."

"Professional athlete?" came a new voice as one of Maya's cousins entered the foyer. "Man, what you bench press?"

Jules exchanged an amused glance with Maya. This was going to be interesting.

The next few hours passed in a blur of activity. The women congregated in the kitchen, putting final touches on tomorrow's feast, while the men gathered in the massive family room around a television that seemed larger than some movie screens Jules had seen. The Bears-Lions game played out before them, and Jules found himself genuinely interested in the strategic elements of American football, even if the constant stops and starts felt foreign to him.

"See, now that's football," Reverend Richardson commented during a particularly impressive touchdown play. "None of that running around for ninety minutes without scoring."

"Actually, Papa," Maya's brother Michael chimed in, "I looked up some of Jules' highlights. Man's got skills." He pulled out his phone and pulled up a compilation video of some of Jules' best defensive plays and goals for Barcelona.

The room fell silent as they watched Jules execute a perfectly timed sliding tackle before launching a counterattack that led to a goal. Even Reverend Richardson leaned forward in his seat.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, then quickly corrected himself. "Lord forgive my language. But son, that was impressive."

Jules ducked his head modestly. "Thank you, sir."

The evening wound down with a lighter dinner of soup and sandwiches, everyone saving room for tomorrow's feast. As they prepared for bed – Jules in the guest room, Maya down the hall in her childhood bedroom, her father's rules being what they were – Maya slipped in to say goodnight.

"You survived day one," she said, perching on the edge of his bed.

"Your family is wonderful," he replied honestly. "Loud, but wonderful."

"Just wait until tomorrow when everyone else shows up."

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Jules woke early, maintaining his training schedule with a light workout in the Richardsons' home gym, where he found Maya's father already on the treadmill.

"Early riser?" Miles asked.

"Have to be, sir. Game day or not, routine is important."

Miles nodded approvingly. They exercised in comfortable silence until Maya appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas, looking between them with suspicious amusement.

"Y'all better get ready. Mama's already in the kitchen, and the first wave of family will be here in two hours."

Jules showered and dressed carefully in dark chinos, a teal cashmere sweater, and polished brown dress shoes. When he emerged from the guest room, he caught Maya staring.

"You clean up nice," she said, drinking in the sight of him. She'd changed into a burgundy wrap dress that made Jules momentarily forget about football, family, and everything else. "I can say the same about you, bébé."

She giggled as he pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips slanted against his, feeling pillowy soft and addictive as usual. Jules let out a satisfied groan as he felt her fingers caress his chest, but it dissolved quickly to a huff when she pulled away.

"My family, baby," was her response and she fixed his sweater. "We can’t get too carried away."

True to Maya's warning, the house soon filled with extended family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and family friends streamed in, each carrying dishes and each wanting to meet "Maya's French soccer player." Jules lost count of the handshakes, hugs, and variations of "Boy, you really got an accent, don't you?"

The Thanksgiving meal itself was a revelation. Jules had researched American Thanksgiving traditions, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer abundance of food or the specific traditions of a Southern Black family's celebration. Before eating, everyone joined hands as Reverend Richardson said grace, a lengthy prayer that touched on everything from family bonds to the state of the world to blessing "this young man who's traveled so far to be with us today."

The food was unlike anything Jules had experienced: deep-fried turkey ("Better than that dry oven-baked stuff," Maya's uncle insisted), collard greens, cranberry sauce, fresh homemade biscuits, mac and cheese that three different aunties claimed was their specialty, yams, and dishes whose names Jules couldn't quite catch but whose flavors exploded on his tongue.

"You got to put hot sauce on those greens," Maya's cousin Brandon advised, sliding a bottle of Crystal hot sauce his way. "Trust me."

Throughout the meal, Jules found himself fielding questions about his career, his family back in France, and his intentions toward Maya. The last topic came primarily from her brothers and male cousins, delivered with smiles that didn't quite hide their protective instincts.

"So, when you planning to make an honest woman of our Maya?" her cousin Marcus asked, causing Maya to choke on her sweet tea.

"Leave them alone," Maya's mother intervened. "They're young, they're taking their time."

But Jules caught the interested glance she threw his way and made a mental note to speak with Maya's father at his next visit. The small velvet box hidden in his home back in Barcelona suddenly felt more real.

After the meal, while the women managed the cleanup with military precision ("Don't you even think about helping, baby," Maya's grandmother shooed him away), Jules found himself in the family room surrounded by Maya's cousins. They'd shifted to sports talk, with him explaining the Champions League system to increasingly interested listeners.

"So it's like March Madness, but for a whole season?" one of Maya's cousins, Amir, asked.

"Kind of, yes," Jules nodded. "But with the best clubs from all over Europe."

"And you play for one of the best ones?"

"Barcelona is... yes, one of the best," Jules admitted modestly.

"My man!" Several of the cousins exchanged high fives and daps, apparently deciding that dating a player from one of Europe's elite clubs made Maya's choice acceptable.

"Alright, alright, you listen to music, Jules?” another one of Maya's cousins, DeAndre, leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What rappers you listening to?"

Jules straightened up, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Probably the same as you."

This got a round of laughs, but Trey, who'd been quiet until now, smirked and said, "Well, I guess old Kanye was right – 'niggas do be in Paris.'"

The room erupted in laughter, and Jules couldn't help but join in, appreciating how quickly they'd made him feel like part of the family. Marcus then leaned forward, squinting at Jules intently.

"You know, now that I'm really looking at you... you look just like J. Cole."

MJ walked in at that moment, balancing his second helping of sweet potato pie. "Man, just because he's light skin and got dreads doesn't mean he look like J. Cole," he said, shaking his head as he settled into an armchair. "So, Jules, how you liking Atlanta so far? First time here, right?"

"Yes, but my best friend Aurélien visited before. He said he loved it." Jules nodded, shifting in his seat. "I'm enjoying it a lot," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "I really like how Black it is here. It's different from Europe. Though I'm disappointed I won't get to see Maya's alma mater, Clark Atlanta, this trip."

"Man, you gotta come to Homecoming next year!" DeAndre exclaimed. "That's when Atlanta really shows out."

Jules smiled, genuine interest crossing his face. "I'll check my schedule. The football calendar is pretty rigid, but maybe during the international break..."

"So what did your boy Aurélien think about Atlanta?" Trey asked, a knowing look in his eye. "What spots did he hit up?"

Jules scoffed, shaking his head as memories of his conversations with Aurélien from three years ago flooded back. He tried his best to censor himself, careful with his words. "He, uh... he really enjoyed the food. Especially the lemon pepper wings..."

The cousins and Maya’s brothers exchanged knowing looks, immediately catching the careful way Jules was choosing his words. Marcus started laughing first.

"Magic City’s wings, huh?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"The wings..." Jules maintained diplomatically, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Aurélien has a... particular appreciation for certain aspects of Atlanta culture."

"Oh, you mean big booties," Trey said plainly, causing everyone to burst out laughing again.

MJ nearly choked on his sweet potato pie. "Y'all are terrible. Don't go telling our grandparents about your friend's 'cultural appreciation.'"

Jules raised his hands in mock surrender. "Listen, I just came for Thanksgiving dinner and family time. What Aurélien did on his own time..."

"Man speaks facts," DeAndre nodded approvingly. "But for real though, when you come back for Homecoming, we're gonna show you the real Atlanta. The clean version," he added quickly as MJ shot him a look. "Can't have Maya coming for our necks."

The next morning brought another new experience: Black Friday shopping. Maya insisted it was a crucial part of the American Thanksgiving experience, though Jules suspected she just wanted to see his reaction to the chaos. They joined her mother and sisters-in-law at the crack of dawn, fighting crowds at Lenox Mall.

"This is... intense," Jules commented as they watched two women nearly come to blows over a discounted designer bag.

"Welcome to America, baby," Maya laughed.

The shopping expedition was followed by service at Reverend Richardson's old church, where Jules found himself the center of attention once again. The congregation welcomed him warmly, though more than a few elderly church ladies sent meaningful looks Maya's way when they noticed the way Jules' suit fit him.

All too soon, it was time to leave on Saturday morning. Jules had a flight to catch, a match to prepare for. As they said their goodbyes, each family member hugged him like they'd known him for years rather than days.

"You come back soon, you hear?" Maya's grandmother said, pressing a container of leftover sweet potato pie into his hands. "And don't you worry about your figure just this once."

Reverend Richardson shook his hand firmly. "Next time, we'll teach you about real football properly," he said with a wink. "But I suppose your kind of football isn't so bad either."

Maya's father pulled him aside for a moment. "You take care of our girl," he said simply. "And maybe next time, stay a little longer."

In the car on the way to the airport, Maya was unusually quiet.

"Everything okay?" Jules asked.

"More than okay," she smiled. "They love you. Even Daddy, though he'll never admit it directly. And Papa actually watched some more soccer highlights after you went to bed last night."

Jules laughed. "Your family is... they're special."

"Special crazy or special good?"

"Special perfect," he said, taking her hand. "Though I might need a week to recover from all the food your grandmother insisted I eat."

"Please, I saw you getting seconds of that mac and cheese. Don't even front."

As the plane took off a few hours later, Jules thought about the whirlwind visit. He'd faced some of the world's best strikers, played in front of massive crowds, dealt with intense media scrutiny. But somehow, winning over Maya's family felt like his greatest victory yet.

His phone buzzed with a message from Maya: "Daddy just said he might come watch one of your games sometime. I think that means you're officially family now 😘"

Jules smiled, already thinking about his next visit. Maybe by then, that little velvet box wouldn't be hidden away in Barcelona anymore. But first, he had a match to win against Las Palmas. After all, he couldn't disappoint his new American family who might be watching.

[multifandomdummie]

Zosan first kiss?

Right after they met in Sabaody.

I just know these guys were craving each other desperately when they were apart. At first they thought it was because they wanted to fight and pick on each other, but then they realized there was something else.

And Sanji felt it the moment he saw Zoro emerging on that ship he cutted, a lot bigger and stronger than he ever was. Sanji had to light a cigarette so his thoughts remain control. There was no doubt of his feelings at that point.

Zoro's full body trembled when he heard Sanji's voice for the first time in two years, the scent of Tabacco helped him realize it was not his imagination anymore, the idiot cook was really there, his body not as thin as he remembered, his legs seemed to be toner, only his brows remained the same.

Zoro swallowed thick as he got closer to the blonde one, his whole body felt hot and weak for some reason. The swordsman, after a long talk with Perona, realized that he might not despise Sanji as much as he thought, maybe not at all.

-you are such a headache, you know? - Sanji said as soon as they were together - always wasting time, I knew I had to look for you so you don't mess up my reunion with my beautiful ladies - Sanji smoked his cigarette, slowly - Nami-san would be really mad if you delay us - Zoro grin a little, looking to the cook's eyes, they seem bluer than ever

Sanji felt the air got stuck on his throat. Out of all the ideas he had made on his head about Zoro physical appearance after two years, the missing eye was definitely not on his list, let alone think it looked kind of good on him

-is it for Nami or were you so desperate to see me that you had to come find me?- Zoro said staring at the blonde one - there's no need to hide it, ero-cook - the swordsman started walking to the opposite direction of where they were suppose to go.

-you are even dumber than I remembered - Sanji throw his cigarette at the floor, stepping on it and started walking behind the swordsman who decided to take a turn to his left - fucking unbelievable - the cook had no other remedy than to take the same direction, but at the moment he got there, Zoro was nowhere to be found - you are always such a pain in the ass - Sanji started to complain while he walked through the empty street - always getting lost, always causing trouble, always so, so, so... - Sanji couldn't find another adjective to describe the swordsman when the felt a hand in the back of his neck, making him turn around.

- so what? - Zoro asked as he cornered Sanji against the wall, his other hand pressed against the wall near to Sanji´s head. He started to feel dizzy when his whole body was in touch with the blonde's - just spit it out, Sanji - the blonde had to swallow thick, hearing Zoro saying his name with him this close was definitely making his body weak - am I so what? - Zoro locked his eye on Sanji's, waiting for an answer.

- so stupid, you are always so stupid - Sanji said trying to play tough as he wasn't loosing his mind at that moment. Zoro smiled a little.

- you are driving me crazy - the green haired released his grip on Sanji's hair, moving backwards - you have no idea - Sanji hand grabbed his wrist, preventing him from moving further away.

- why? What's on your mind?- Sanji asked, getting closer again -want to get rid of me? you want to cut me in pieces? - Zoro had to breath slow to control himself, Sanji's soft tone was making his blood heat - want to kill me? - the cook whispered when their breaths were combining again

At this point they were just tempting each other, trying to find out who will give in first, but both are dying for the other, craving it like crazy.

- I wish that was the first thing in my mind, curly, I really do - Zoro clenched his jaw trying to remain focus on anything else other than Sanji´s face this close to his, provoking some dangerous thoughts on his mind.

- is it not? - the cook asked faking confusion - then what is it that you want? Mosshead - Zoro's fist tightened, he was trying to remain calm - is just you and me, no one will see you - Sanji got silent for a second, his craving for it as much as the mosshead is - oh, for fuck sake Zoro, just do it! - in Sanji's head that was an order, but to Zoro's ears that was the cook begging for it.

But the swordsman couldn't take it anymore, his hand was back in Sanji's hair, pulling back to make the cook get against the wall again, kissing him without waiting anymore. Theirs lips frenetically moving against each other, their breaths heavy and agitated. They have been waiting for this for two years, they don't have time for sweetness and delicate touches, they have a desire to satisfy and they need to do it now

Zoro pushed Sanji's head closer as he hand in the wall wrapped around Sanji's waist, he wanted to feel every inch of the cooks body. The cook´s hands were travelling around Zoro's bare chest, trying to save in his brain the sensation under his fingers as the swordsman kisses him with such a fervour.

They stopped kissing after their chests were out of breath, blushing a little after what just happened between them.

- you see how right I was about you being desperate to see me? - Zoro said while raising and eyebrow, moving his hand from Sanji´s hair to his waist, forbidding him from move.

- shut the hell up - the cook frown - you were the one who kissed me first, stupid mosshead - Sanji´s hands slowly moved from Zoro chest to his shoulders

-you were begging for it - Zoro sight moved to the cook´s lips, feeling the urge to kiss him again. Sanji wanted to respond, he really did, but that look on Zoro´s face while looking at him, made his brain struggle to process information.

They looked at each other, silently. They needed to feel that they were real, that it was not longer their imagination. When Sanji's arms were around Zoro neck, the swordsman couldn't help it but to kiss the cook again, this time slower, taking his time to enjoy every sensation. The softness of the cook's lips, the way both mouths danced in synchronization, how their bodies fitted together.

- fuck, you really drive me crazy, ero-cook - Zoro said as their kiss broke, joining their foreheads.

- is because you are really stupid, mosshead - they both laugh a little, trying to decide if they should go or if they wanted to stay s little longer in that dark street Zoro found for them

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hear me out!

Sanji definitely learned how to flirt with men in Kamabakka Kingdom and Perona 100% taught Zoro how to behave with the people he liked

But they are still Zoro and Sanji, they need to send the other to eat shit before they eat each other's mouth. That's why I think it happened like that

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

part 2 of the dinner scene in this ongoing au! first part here!

*very early morning, the next day*

*odysseus is making his way back down to the hidden cove*

(he totally wasn't kicked sent out their marriage bed by penelope, who was giggling to herself saying how "he should be excited to go and invite his friend to family dinner")

odysseus: *mumbling to himself* how do you even invite a god to a dinner? especially one that hunted you for 10 years?

odysseus: *arrives at the cove's beach*

odysseus: *sighs* well here goes nothing

odysseus: *looking out to the sea* poseidon! i again need to speak with you about something!

*unlike last time poseidon doesn't appear straight away*

odysseus: poseidon!

*still nothing*

odysseus: *rolling his eyes* do i really have to?

odysseus: *red eyes activated* POSEIDO-

*the water starts moving and poseidon is coming out it, and looks...sleepy?*

poseidon: *holding up his hands* i'm here! i'm here! please turn off the red eyes...

odysseus: *red eyes deactivated*

odysseus: ...well what took you so long to answer? you're normally much quicker

poseidon: *yawning* gods sleep too y'know?

odysseus: *surprised* ...oh, uh-

poseidon: -let's just get to the point. what do you need this time, king of ithaca?

odysseus: um.. dinner?

poseidon: *squinting at odysseus*

poseidon: *starts being salty* you woke me up before helios himself has taken to the sky? to get you DINNER?

odysseus: *starts being snarky back* oh yeah! my first thought of the day was, i could really go for dinner now instead of breakfast, GUESS I'D BETTER GO CALL POSEIDON

poseidon: *eye twitching* listen here you little shi-

odysseus: I'M INVITING YOU TO DINNER YOU-

poseidon: *pointing at odysseus* YOU JUST SAID "DINNER" NOTHING ELSE-

poseidon: *now confused* -wait, why are you inviting me to dinner?

odysseus: *sighing and holding the bridge of his nose* look telemachus wants to have a family dinner-

poseidon: *pointing at himself* family?!?

odysseus: -AND he wants me to invite my "friend"

poseidon:

poseidon: ...and if i refuse?

odysseus: *sighs again* look- i know we're not friends, but my son thinks we are.

odysseus: *now looking at poseidon* and as much as i hate to admit it, you really impressed him when he met you

odysseus: *looking down & speaking under his breath* hades knows why-

odysseus: *back to looking at poseidon* so im not gonna force you this time. but i am just going to ask you, if you would please come to dinner?

odysseus: *with pleading eyes* i understand you don't want to do it for me. however as a father speaking to another father, could you please do this for my son?

poseidon: *closes his eyes*

poseidon: *thinking he could just say no and go back home,,, but-*

poseidon: ... i accept.

odysseus: *in genuine shock* thank yo-

poseidon: *grins* i mean obviously your son is smarter than you, he sees just how great i am. clearly he gets that from his mother and not you.

odysseus: *regretting asking* (¬_¬)

poseidon: so when is this "family" dinner?

odysseus: tomorrow evening.

poseidon: tomorrow evening then. i will take my leave for now.

poseidon: *turning back to head back into the sea*

odysseus: *grins remembering something* oh i just remembered my son will be bringing his friend too

poseidon: *without looking back & waving his hand in a not worried motion* i'm not bothered by another mortal odysseus

odysseus: *shit-eating grin gets bigger* oh no, i'm sure you're not...

odysseus: *in a sing-song voice* this is however no mortal though~

poseidon: *stops*

poseidon: *turns with slight worry* what do you mean no mortal?

odysseus: oh you know, its only... athena.

poseidon: ATHENA?!

odysseus: well i'd best be getting back! don't forgot tomorrow evening poseidon!~

odysseus: *runs back to the palace laughing*

poseidon: ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA!

so.... part 3 coming soon!

(listen i know i said two parts but i ran away with these two and their bickering)

[bibliophilesince2003]

The Bad Batch

Here's a little theory for you to mull over; I sincerely wonder whether I am alone in thinking this. I could also be heavily exhausted over and influenced by the papers I had to polish off for some of my college courses, or perhaps motivated by the fact that I am re-watching The Bad Batch because most modern shows these days, in my opinion, disappoint. At any rate, here it is.

Why do we like the Bad Batch so much? What makes them relatable and/or realistic?

Upon meeting Omega, most of the Bad Batch behave in a very dad-like manner. This is not surprising, no. Plenty of memes and incorrect quotes have stemmed from this simple observation. They don't have all the answers and they don't know what to do with Omega half the time. That's the thing about dads... usually, they're just "winging it" and trying to do their best. Moms come with a built-in instinct to nurture. Dads come with a built-in instinct to protect and lead. Sometimes, dads aren't quite sure what to do with a crying infant or a struggling teenager.

Let's not forget... Hunter and the others are soldiers. That isn't to say they can't be kind or gentle; even the toughest men have their weak points. As a military brat, though, I have noticed that such a profession can mold a man, and at times they forget to "turn off" their seriousness when at home after having dealt with extremely hard situations. I really appreciate that the producers of this show didn't change Hunter and the others just to make them more approachable from Omega's standpoint. If they do change, it's gradual.

Do Hunter and the others think about the consequences of bringing Omega into their lives? *eyeballs toothpick man* With exceptions, of course. Well, until season three. The answer? Absolutely not. They believe they have the strength and ability to keep her safe, as most dads would. They believe they will always have that strength and ability. Let me break it down for you and give you a look into the brain of a dad:

Dad: *involved in a dangerous situation*

Dad: I can do that.

Dad: *remembers their child is with them*

Dad: Oh. Well, I guess becomes a life lesson. I've got you, kid. Just... don't tell your mom.

Dad: *keeps an eye out for anything suspicious*

Kid: *perfectly content*

I've heard it said that dads don't say "I love you" but show they love you. I personally have experienced both, but given the seriousness of most dads... I can see how that would be the case. At the very least, their actions speak louder than words. The Bad Batch are very much this way towards Omega. They put their lives on the line. They want to make her happy. Wrecker assembles a spot for Omega to call her own on the Marauder. Tech grabs her before an explosion can reach them. Echo has hugged Omega the most. Hunter is usually within three feet of Omega at all times.

The subtle gestures of kindness captivated all our hearts, I know.

Why?

It's Star Wars, a fictional universe. It's not complete fiction, though. Hunter and the others represent a specific kind of love. Fathers may be cautious and unsure at first, but eventually they want the kid by their side for everything. We've all seen the videos of dads using infants as pretend machine guns or making them dance, the kid's neck rolling lazily. Gently, of course. If they can't protect the kid from everything, they use themselves as a shield, which extends to good mothers, too, though that's not what this post is about.

Hunter and the others may be soldiers, but they embody the very spirit of fatherhood. This was such a wonderful theme to see develop despite the grittiness and action.

Phew, I feel like there was more I wanted to say, but I'm tired, so you're spared from more rambling.

[simvanie]

7 Sins Legacy - generation 5 (gluttony)

Sean: What's going on with you? 'Cause you just look defeated. I always had the impression that you would fight for your restaurant and your stars if you'd ever lose one... I feel like there is something else that I don't know of.

Gulshan: ...You know that girl I was seeing? Sean: Yeah? Gulshan: Turns out she just used me to benefit her dad's restaurant. I was competition they wanted to get rid of.

Sean: Who's her dad? Gulshan: The same guy that fired Britney and now owns The Tuna Tortuga.

Sean: Nahhhh... Gulshan: Yah.

Gulshan: She's the reason I can't have Hamlet anymore, lost a star, and with that also lost customers and income. And we all know what happens with restaurants that lose a star... They'll lose more until they go bankrupt.

Sean: So you're saying that before she even set foot in this restaurant, she and her dad already premeditated the whole thing? Gulshan: Mhm.

Sean: That's- I don't think I've ever heard something that crazy... Gulshan: I don't even know what hurts more at this point- the betrayal or the heartbreak. I feel so stupid that I didn't know it was her dad...

Sean: How could you know? You've never even met her dad. Gulshan: Well, Now it'll be just a matter of time before we have to say goodbye to this restaurant.

Sean: Hey, don't say that. Not all restaurants that have lost stars have failed. I know you have it in you. We can still make it-

Gulshan: Do you Remember that bottle of whiskey we have stored and wanted to open when we would get our fifth star? Sean: Yeah?

Gulshan: There isn't going to be any better time anymore to open it than now. Sean: Hey- I said that we can still get those stars! ...Ah, you know what? Fuck it, you can definitely use it. Pour me one too!